


JCS One-Shot Challenge

by LokianaWinchester



Series: Jesus Christ Superstar [28]
Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Hopeful ending?, Interview, Lmao what is chapter 2 even about?, M/M, Modern AU, One Shot Collection, Pining Judas, This is the vaguest thing I have ever written, hmm judas angst, mentions of mary magdalene, probably the most aesthetic one, this one is fluffier lol, yeehaw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-08-22 22:09:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16606367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokianaWinchester/pseuds/LokianaWinchester
Summary: I'm going to do 14 days of 1000+ word one-shots. Most of them will be posted here.





	1. I Am Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to Freddy tortures herself by challenging herself to write everyday. Let's hope she doesn't fail.

I am lost.

People around me are distant. They are far away and crowding around me at the same time. They are too loud and completely muted at the same time.

I wish for some quiet. And I wish to understand. They talk, but all that comes through is senseless noise.

I am lost.

I used to have a way, a clear vision of what I wanted. Or maybe I did not. Maybe it was not _my_ vision after all.

There are some who say I am merely a tool, an instrument led by something more, a power, God.

They ask me if I am, but I cannot answer.

I do not know.

I used to have plans, I used to map out a future, but now I just wander aimlessly. People follow because they think I know where I am going.

But I do not.

I am lost.

The masses of people are closing in on me, I have no room to breathe. They all want a part of me, but nobody is willing to hear what _I_ want.

I want to end this.

Is it too late? It might be.

My friends are there for me. They say they are, but they behave like everybody else. Star-struck, longing. They want me, but they do not want what I really am.

I am lost.

They do not know.

Hands on my arms, bodies against mine. I hug, I comfort, I heal.

But do they care for me? Or do they care for my touch only?

I am not so sure.

I am numb to the world; I have been for some time now. The change was not sudden, it crept up on me, latched on to me like an incurable disease.

I yearn for days long past, back when I was inspired, the world was bright, the people all had faces, and beauty to them. Now they all look the same, feel the same.

No, not all.

There is one. One of them who stands out. He does not follow me, he walks by my side. Maybe he still believes in what I stand for.

Perhaps he has lost his hope too. But not his vision. He does not follow blindly.

Does he know I am lost? Does he know I am giving up?

“You are not lost,” he tells me, but I see no way. I see no hope, as much as I preach it. My words are empty. I have perfected the art of speaking to crowds and binding them. I cannot seem to stop now; more people latch on to those words, that are empty now.

And nobody notices.

He does.

“I am here for you,” he says. And I believe it. I cling to him like a lifeline. Like he is the only colour I see in an ocean of grey.

“Thank you,” I choke out. The words make me ache with their weight. I mean them. For once my words have meaning. For once they are more than just empty shells.

He holds me.

I sink into his touch, when everybody else repulses me.

My friends stay at a distance. I miss them, but at the same time I cannot stand to be near them.

They remind me of better times, times when I was not broken, times when I had life to give, love to give.

Now, I only take.

I am so empty I suck in all that is good. Light, hope, life. Love.

I take and take, without giving. I am a bottomless void, I am the feeling of infinite yearning. Taking in the good things makes me _feel_. Briefly, but intensely. So I keep on taking.

Perhaps I take in order to fix myself. A fruitless effort; what is a loving embrace to somebody who yearns to melt into the other person completely?

Perhaps I am empty because I gave too much.

I want to end this.

I want peace, but it seems unreachable. I will never be at peace. There will always be something demanding my attention. Or somebody.

And I will always be longing for more. I will thirst and hunger for more and more and _more_ ; peace is not an option.

Peace is what I feel when he kisses me.

His lips are the salvation I have been waiting for. The lantern in a moonless night and my guide in unknown terrain.

I am lost. But I see the way.

His eyes hold the strength I need. I take and take, but he does not mind.

“I might wear you out.” I worry, because I need him.

“You will not,” he says. And I believe him. I always do.

I take all the love he gives me, I depend on it, but I also thrive off it.

I change again; and again I do not know if anybody notices. He does. He always does.

People become clearer again.

My vision sharpens, my plans bloom and flourish.

I have found my way.

I am getting better, better than I would have thought possible for a long time.

He never leaves me, he is there for me throughout everything, and even though I feel less empty I keep taking. I am used to it now.

He keeps giving.

His hands are a blessing against my skin, when I feel like I have failed. A reminder of the good I try to believe in.

His words are a soothing balm for my head, calming me, comforting me, caring for me.

His hair between my fingers is the yarn from which the fabric of my world is woven. He keeps me grounded.

He says the same things as everybody else.

“I love you.”

They all think they do.

But only he really loves me.

“I love you.” The words taste sour on my tongue. They used to fall from my lips easily; now they weigh heavily on my heart. A burden.

I try them on at night, like a gown that used to fit me. But I have changed.

Now I feel insecure about them, I feel ashamed of saying them, because I am not sure if I mean them.

I do.

When it comes to him, I do.

I am not sure about much these days, but I am sure about him.

I take. I still take.

And he gives.

When I finally tell him when I finally utter those words, my voice as broken as I feel, he goes quiet.

“I love you,” it echoes around me.

The words are still heavy, but they also take away a burden; I start giving again.

There is light in his eyes when he smiles at me. There is hope in the way he kisses me. There is life in the way his arms close around me.

There is love in my words.

I am lost.

I am lost within him, but he knows the way.


	2. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeehaw.

“I know you’re busy.” I didn’t say it in an accusing tone, because I understood. I didn’t mean to be rude about it, I didn’t want the words to hurt, but somehow my pain simmered through and he noticed.

“I’m sorry, Judas,” Jesus said. He looked at me and I saw the truth of my words in his eyes.

These days, I never seemed to be able to say the right thing. It had become more and more difficult, but I tried, I still tried.

And he _was_ busy.

Jesus had more and more followers, and while this was good - we needed all the support we could get - it was also a burden for all of us, because there was no off-time.

I looked into his eyes and saw only exhaustion there, fatigue that I saw reflected in his movements, his tone of voice.

“Don’t be,” I said. There was no need for him to be sorry. None of this was his fault; not in any way.

I had been sceptical at first. When I had first met Jesus, he had been full of excitement, full of hope, a source of light when my life was looking grim. I appreciated his message and his attitude, but I did not believe him to be blessed in some way, or even something more. I did not see him as a means to an end; I saw him as a man on a mission.

But now I knew better. The years we had spent together had made it clear that he was not one of those options. He was both. He was a man on a mission, a force stronger than any I have ever seen before; he was a beautiful, astonishingly headstrong person with a goal. But it was not his goal.

He was a man with a purpose as much as a mission; a tool to reach something greater. I realised this when I saw what a great toll it took on Jesus to just exist. He was never alone, always wanted for one thing or the other. And he was exhausted. Just looking at him became painful for me a long time ago. Ever since he had become distant. My feelings for him only made this pain worse, because I could not do anything to help him; I could not ease his suffering.

When he laid his hand over mine, I noticed the weakness. I remembered when the bare clasp of his hand at my shoulder could have made my knees buckle with the sheer strength and will he radiated. Now his touches were barely impressions of what he used to be.

His situation wore him out and all I wanted was to help him. But I did not know how. The look in his eyes was breaking my heart. It was hollow, emotionless, but so full of pain and pent up anger.

I knew there was anger there, because Jesus had started to act on it recently; another thing he had never done before. All the sadness, all the pain, and anger that Jesus had stacked up over the years, all the negativity he was afraid to show to the world in fear of what they would do to him if they knew he was human like the rest of them; all of that came out now, because he was too weak to hold it back anymore.

“I’m here,” I told him, and I meant it. I would never leave him. If only the people could see that he was a human. That was the thing; he was human, but at the same time he was so much more than that.

I had not understood in the beginning, but I had been doubtful, bitter, and most importantly, I had not loved him.

Nothing opened your eyes like love did. We had it all. Happiness, comfort, trust, pleasure. In some way it had probably been too good to last.

I never wanted him to hurt.

But I never controlled him. So I could not stop him.

‘I’m my own person,’ he would say. ‘You don’t know me.’

It had started like this. We had started drifting apart. I clung on until the very end, and if I was being honest I was still clinging on even now. I missed him more than ever.

The tears that collected in his eyes did not make it any easier for me to restrain myself. I lifted my hand to wipe them away. His eyes were glassy with desperately held back tears, his cheeks stained red and his expression utterly broken.

“No.” I did not know what he was saying.

“No,” Jesus repeated. “I _am_ sorry. And I need to be. I pushed you away and I knew it would hurt you.”

I clenched my teeth and tried not to let it show how much his words affected me.

“It’s okay,” I pressed out. It was not okay, it had never been. But he did not need more worries than he already had. And most importantly, I did not need to cause those worries.

“No. That’s the point. You always say it’s okay, but I know you’re indulging me.”

Tears were rolling down my cheeks now. I did not hold them back. I had my very own pent up pain and terrors, that were now breaking free because I was weakening. Jesus was weakening me; I could stand up strong for him, I could fight for him; I would die for him. He held so much power over me, that he still did not know of.

Accordingly, he could break me down with just a few words. When his hands came up against the sides of my face, I laid my own over them. When he leaned in, a motion so familiar, yet so strange - a habit from times passed, that I still yearned for – I pushed him away.

Sobs were choking up my throat. I could barely breathe, but I managed to speak.

“Stop.”

His motions halted abruptly. It took me a minute to calm down to a point where I could utter clear words.

“You’re right. You hurt me and I just took it. And that’s okay.” He wanted to protest, I saw him open his mouth.

“Shhh. I know what I’m saying. It’s okay, but I can’t take you back. Not just like that. It’s been years since you last kissed me, years since we had more than this... friendship. It’s been years since the last time we were together.” My voice broke. “I can’t just ignore that.”

He closed his eyes.

“Okay.”

I exhaled, tension leaving my body. My hands left his, fell to my sides.

“I’ll wait for you, because I need this. I need you and I need you to be okay. I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt you. I’ll wait,” Jesus whispered and stepped back.

I shook my head and closed the distance again. His arms were open when I let myself fall against him. They closed around me tightly.

I lost track of how long we stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, but I noticed that we still fit together. Both broken; but together we formed something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out that sleep deprivation and recent negative emotional stress are not great conditions to write light hearted fic in. Thus another angsty pile of projection.
> 
> I feel like I'm screaming into the void but especially @Masked_Man_2, if you can spare a few less dark prompts I'd be forever in your debt. This also goes to anybody else in the void lol


	3. Interview

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is something new. I've never tried to write anything like this but it was fun.
> 
> Here's a first meeting.

[The setting is a studio, a chair in the middle of the frame, the background plain black.]

 

**Interviewer:**

Would you tell us about the first time you met Judas?

 

**Jesus:**

The first time I met him?

Hmm. Well, funnily enough, he was less than impressed with me when we first met. I thought I knew it all, I thought people were so easy to impress. But anybody I really _want_ to impress will tell you I’m not good at that at all.

I mean - no offense – usually people _are_ easy to impress, but he is not. Judas was never easy to impress. That’s why he thought I was a colossal idiot at the beginning.

So yeah. It was some sort of festival at the town we were visiting back then and I saw his hair, braided back... Not many men can pull that off, mind you. And my mind immediately went: Him!

And when he turned around, my mind went blank. Because I was just that attracted to him. Maybe that was why my first impression was... let’s just say it left much to be desired.

 

[Cut to Judas.]

 

**Judas:**

(laughs)

Yeah, you could certainly say that. I don’t think he approached me when he first saw me. He doesn’t have the guts to do that. Don’t get me wrong; I adore him. But I also know him, and he’s just too nervous no matter how self-confident he seems, or thinks he is.

When he finally came up to me, he was drunk. And by that I don’t mean tipsy or anything like that. I mean full on, ‘slurring and stumbling all over the place’ drunk.

Turns out, as good as he is with people, he’s not good with them when he’s seriously into them.

Let’s just say it wasn’t his greatest moment.

(a gentle smile)

But he _did_ sober up eventually. And when Simon finally convinced him to stop being ashamed... well maybe not stop, but to shove it away a bit... he came to talk to me.

If I have to be honest here - do I?

 

**Interviewer:**

Yes!

 

**Judas:**

Yeah I thought so. I still wasn’t impressed. He was stuttering all over the place. It was terrible.

 

[Cut to Jesus.]

 

**Jesus:**

I’m not good with guys. I mean, I’m not the worst, but I’m definitely terrible at talking to somebody attractive. But then, I was preaching, and... you know, talking to a crowd. That’s something I can do. I’m _good_ at that. And yeah. He saw me there and noticed that maybe I was more than a drunk idiot.

He came up to me afterwards and spoke to me for a bit, about how he disagreed with me and he was so well educated on the topic and his comments were so insightful... I think I’d call it love at first sight. Or at fourth sight really. It’s just easier to leave out the previous incidents.

(Hides his face in his hands)

 

[Cut to Judas.]

 

**Judas:**

I had to ask him on a date eventually. Because he could still barely talk to me. He kissed me the minute we were alone and the rest is history.

 

[Cut to Jesus. His head is still in his hands.]

 

**Interviewer:**

Thank you to both of you.

 

* * *

 

The interview was for an LGBT+ organisation, that wanted to show influential people in the community in a celebratory video for Coming-Out-Day. Of course Jesus and Judas had agreed to participate; after all their relationship was in the public eye anyway, so they might as well do some good with it.

They left the studio hand in hand. Jesus was still slightly flushed.

“Why did you have to expose me like this?”

Judas barked out a laugh.

“It’s for educational purposes, babe,” he replied, coming to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk.

“So that other awkward gay people can see that they’re not alone with their cruel fate.”

Jesus nudged at him with a shoulder.

“Hey!”

But he was smiling, leaning in for a gentle kiss.

“Move it,” somebody said behind them, shoving at Jesus roughly, as he walked by.

Judas was about to go after him, but Jesus held him back, a hand at his boyfriend’s upper arm.

“It’s not worth it. We don’t need any trouble and people like this will always exist.”

Judas scrunched up his face, frowning at Jesus.

“I know. But I don’t like them treating you like shit.” He stepped closer.

“I love you, Jesus. I love you more than anything else, and I love you more than I have ever loved anybody before. One day that homophobe might not just walk by, one day they could become violent. You could end up hurt. Or worse.”

Jesus reached up to cradle Judas’ face between his hands.

“I’ve come so far with kindness. Even though I’m also terribly awkward. I don’t want you to get in trouble because you think somebody could hurt me. I’ll be okay. I’ll always be okay.”

Judas hesitated, eyes averted. He swallowed his terror at the imagination, pushed aside his worries.

“Okay,” he agreed. “Okay, I trust you.”

Jesus smiled at him and planted a kiss on the corner of Judas’ lips.

“I love you too.”

The words got Judas to smile as well.

“Who would have thought, that we would end up here,” he muttered, after they walked in silence for some time. Jesus laughed.

“Not me. I didn’t even think that I had any kind of chance with you at all. You’re so terrifyingly perfect. I still don’t know how I landed you.”

“I’m far from perfect, Jesus. And you know that. But I gotta admit that it wasn’t your charming ways that made me fall for you.”

Jesus rolled his eyes.

“I know. But what was it?” he asked; somehow they had still never really talked about this.

“It was your stage presence. And the confidence that you exude up there. I have never seen anybody who talks with as much passion and devotion to their cause. I absolutely adore how you talk about treating other people right, and how you’re not a hypocrite about it in the least. You’re just as good a person as you want others to be.”

Jesus was blushing again and crowded himself against Judas’ side, who promptly put an arm around his shoulders, holding him close.

They had come a long way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> with any additional suggestions for one shots, please hmu!


	4. Terrible fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. I tried some judas mary relationship exploration, but it turned into judas angst lol

It was a terrible fate, knowing that somebody else loved the person you love.

It was a terrible fate, knowing that your chances dwindled in the light of their perfection.

It was a terrible fate, knowing that nobody else would ever evoke those feelings from you.

Judas was sitting at the end of the table, laden with food, but he was not hungry. His body was recoiling at the mere thought of food. He knew he had to eat, but anxiety, terror, and love-sickness tied up his throat, made him unable to swallow. Even breathing exhausted him. It was indeed a terrible fate.

Jesus was sitting a few seats further down the table, at his side Peter, at his other side Mary.

Judas knew that all of the apostles loved Jesus; each in their own way. He knew that Peter felt as strongly about him as Simon, as James or Matthew. Maybe even as himself.

But he doubted it. It was possible; maybe they felt as strongly, without being stopped from eating, breathing, living because they loved him differently. Not romantically.

But Judas did, and up until recently he had lived with it more or less comfortably. He had learned to accept his defeat long ago, when even after weeks and months of hinting at something more, Jesus had given him no indications of reciprocated interest.

He had locked his feelings away, tied his conflicted emotions up into a compressed ball of terror and hidden it away beneath the shallow comfort, Jesus’ continuing attention gave him, offered.

Still, his entire life had been spent laughing at every one of Jesus’ jokes, just to see his eyes glimmer with humour, comforting Jesus without getting to close, when he was feeling down, helping him in any way possible. Because even though Judas could not have what he wanted most, he needed to get an approximation of it, at least.

So, he had never stopped hurting, in the vague hopes that Jesus would one day make a move. That Judas would one day do something extraordinary, that would show Jesus how much Judas really cared. And then he would kiss Judas and his life would be perfect.

Whenever he caught himself thinking about this, Judas scoffed. It was unrealistic to say the least, and harmful to himself. Because the more detailed his daydreams and hopes were, the more depressing and frankly crushing reality would turn out to be.

He had thought about kissing Jesus a lot; from slow, lazy kisses to heated, rough, pushing for more, more, ever more, he had imagined everything and it was not something he was proud of. It was simply what happened when a love remained un-reciprocated for too long. When the pining became unbearable.

And then came Mary and Judas, thinking he was suffering enough already, was in for a big surprise.

As it turned out, what he experienced, was a mere after thought at the back of his mind, a condition that was there, but did not incapacitate him in any meaningful way.

Because when Mary stepped into their lives, her presence destroyed the ties around his emotions, had set them free, with a rage that resulted in jealousy and agony.

She was close with Jesus, in some ways closer than Judas. By now in most ways, because Judas had pulled back, retreated to lick his wounds and when he came back, Mary was there for Jesus and Judas was no longer needed.

All the pent up emotions were released there and then; he broke down as soon as he was in private, he had no self-restraint and no will to retain some sense of normalcy. His life, sad as it had already been, was turned upside down now.

He could not help himself, when he let his feelings flow freely around Mary, the jealousy obvious to anybody who knew him. He could not restrain himself from shouting at her, becoming rough. He regretted it, sure, but his emotions continued to get the better of him.

Jesus, of course, was not happy about his outbursts at all; after all he preached peace, acceptance, tolerance. His words against Judas hurt more than all his interactions with Mary.

But later, when their friends were all scattered, some chatting among themselves, some sleeping, Jesus came to him, grabbed Judas arm, yanked him to his feet.

Judas hated it, he hated the strength Jesus had, hated how ridiculously attracted he was to him anyway.

“Mary has never done anything to you,” Jesus began, as soon as they were out of earshot.

“You’re being irrational and rude. I want you to stop that; I can’t accept this behaviour.”

Judas’ throat was closed up with unshed tears, waiting to break out. He remained quiet so as not to let it show how weak he really was. But Jesus saw through him, like always.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, loosening his grip around Judas’ arm.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so harsh.”

Slowly he extended his hand, fingertips barely brushing Judas’ cheek before the first tear escaped his eyes.

“You never talk to me, Judas. I can do many things, but I can’t read thoughts. I don’t want to hurt you, but I need to know what’s hurting you in order to do something against it.”

His expression was broken, he looked almost as heartbroken as Judas felt.

“It’s nothing.” he pressed out, desperately trying not to sob.

“It clearly isn’t nothing.”

Jesus looked at him, his eyes so soft, his expression so understanding, that Judas knew whatever he was going to ask of him, he would not be able to deny it to him.

“Tell me,” Jesus whispered. “Please.”

“I love you.”

the words were out before Judas was aware of them. The second Jesus reacted, mouth falling open, eyes wide, Judas stepped back, running a hand over his face. This was not a mistake he could rectify anytime soon. Maybe ever.

Jesus looked at him, shock clearly written all over his face.

“Really?”

Judas nodded, looked at the ground; he wanted to run, wanted to escape this nightmare.

As he took the first step, legs shaking, breath aching in his lungs, Jesus spoke up one more time.

“I wish you had told me sooner.”

Taking his second step, Judas was ready to break down.

“We could have had so much time.”

The third step was the last chance he had, to get away. He took it. Weak and staggering, vision blurry with tears.

“I’m so sorry.”

Judas ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not yet failed!


	5. Terrible fate 2

It had been years. Jesus had been waiting for years.

It was too late now; he knew the end was near, he did not have much time.

He had been waiting for years in the hope that someday Judas would show an interest in him.

But that had not been the case. Or at least he had thought so. He had not wanted to risk the friendship they had, reaching for something more, something unrealistic.

As he watched Judas storm off, Jesus realised how big a mistake he had made.

This was the reason Judas behaved as he did. This was the reason for the distance he had put between them.

Jesus had turned to Mary with his aching heart, had confided in her and let her in, similar to Judas. And now it all turned out to be a miscommunication. A mistake, that was nobody’s fault but his own.

He staggered back to their shelter, mind completely absent, directly into Mary’s arms.

“Hey,” she said. “Are you alright?”

He shook his head.

“I messed up.”

She opened her arms and he stepped forward, fell into her embrace.

“Come on, let’s sit down and then you tell me what happened.”

Jesus did not reply, and instead just wordlessly followed her.

The arms around him gave him the illusion of something he wanted. Her words a shallow comfort he knew would be nothing way too soon.

“I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me,” Mary eventually said.

“You can’t help me anyway,” Jesus said, bitterly. Mary shook her head.

“Remember when I said I didn’t wanna talk about Judas anymore?”

She nodded.

“I still don’t,” he whispered.

Silence.

“I hurt him, Mary, I was too blind to see he cared for me, I was too ignorant and caught up in my own life, my own problems, that I didn’t even realise all the chances I had. It’s not that he didn’t want me. It’s that he thought _I_ didn’t want _him_. How could it have gone so wrong?” He stopped and turned to face her. Mary looked at him sympathetically. She might feel for him, but she would never know the pain he was going through now. A pain of his own making.

“And now it’s too late.”

She gripped his arms tightly.

“It’s not. You said he cares for you? Still does? Because if so you need to talk to him. I know you think all of this,” a vague gesture. “is gonna end soon. You probably think that anything you start now will only crash and burn, but you have to do something because I have seen how Judas looks, and how his eyes follow you whatever you do. It makes sense that he... cares. Don’t let him make it even worse for himself.”

Jesus knew he was right, but he could not bring himself to get up. The prospect of facing Jesus now was scaring him.

“I can’t,” he protested weakly.

“You can. And you will,” Mary insisted. Jesus saw in her eyes that she would carry him to Judas if she needed to. She was truly extraordinary.

Jesus ran a hand through his hair. He just wanted to sleep. Preferably for a few days. Or centuries.

Eventually, under Mary’s stern gaze, he got up.

“Good luck.”

He scoffed.

Judas was not in his room.

He was not in any other room either. He was nowhere near the building. Jesus wandered the streets aimlessly, hoping to find Judas, but at the same time terrified of really finding him.

Eventually, he did find him, bent over on a bench on the far side of the river, just when Jesus was about to go back and give up.

He heard the sobs before he really saw Judas’ face. This felt like he was intruding; he should leave Judas alone. And yet, an inner voice, Mary, scolded him the moment he had the thought.

“Hey.” He stepped closer, slowly.

Judas jerked up; he looked at Jesus with the most heartbroken expression.

“No.” he shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” Jesus started.

“No,” Judas repeated, voice stronger.

“Please.”

“No. Leave.”

“Just... hear me out,” Jesus was pleading for Judas to acknowledge him, to give him a chance. He was aware that he did not have this privilege, that Judas was completely within his rights to send him away and never to speak with him again.

“No. I can’t.” Judas looked at him now, directly. His eyes were red-rimmed, tear tracks on his cheeks.

“I love you.”

Judas remained silent.

“I love you too. And I’m sorry.”

“No. You don’t get to apologise. You don’t get to say that just to manipulate me.” Judas’ voice was rough, raw with emotion.

“I’m not, I mean it. I would never manipulate you. I would never do that to you.”

Silence. Judas turned away.

Jesus moved to sit down next to him.

“I really _am_ sorry... I wish you could believe me. I wish I hadn’t been so stupid, I should have told you.”

He extended a hand to touch Judas’ upper arm. A question for more. Judas leaned into the touch ever so slightly.

“I love you.”

“How?” Judas’ voice was nearly inaudible.

“I was too afraid to tell you. For years. And for that I’m sorry because I feel everything coming to an end. I know I don’t have much time and...” Judas turned, opened his mouth to protest.

“Shh. I know you don’t want to hear that, but it’s true. It’s inevitable. And I didn’t wanna hurt you. And in trying not to hurt you, I did just that and I’m so sorry.”

“Why now, then?” Judas asked.

“Mary insisted.”

“Mary?”

“She was there for me when you distanced yourself. And she told me to go look for you because she knows. That I’m in love with you and...”

“You really are?”

“Yeah.” Jesus sighed. Then, Judas moved, put a hand over Jesus’ and shuffled closer.

Their eyes met and Jesus was overcome with the urge to kiss Judas, to hold him and keep him safe. There were still tears in Judas’ eyes, but hope was shining through, and something like trust.

Jesus brought his other hand up to Judas’ chin.

“May I?” he whispered. Judas nodded.

When their lips met, it was nothing like Jesus would have imagined. It was not passionate or deep, rough or very romantic. It was insecure, their lips pressing against one another.

They moved together, Jesus’ fingers threading into Judas’ hair, angling their faces for better access. Their lips opened in sync.

Heartbreak and unspeakable love streamed through Jesus, the most powerful of emotions, ripping each other to shreds until only a perfect feeling of _Judas_ was left.

Jesus knew the end was near, but at least he could try to make up for lost time. At least he had Judas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little did he know that from their happiness, pain greater than the sum of its parts would rise and consume them both.
> 
> How's that for an end note


	6. Love At First Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be fluffy but....... at least it's not major character death lol

“I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you,” Jesus says and it is sincere.

Judas does not believe him. Who could love him? He does not believe in love at first sight either. He does not think that somebody can wake up one morning, same as ever, go about their day, laugh, cry, meet their friends and work. And when they go to bed they will be undeniably changed forever.

In love.

Judas cannot believe that, because if he did, he would have to admit that he himself is a victim of this occurrence.

He was not in a bad place when he met Jesus; he was not poor, nor unemployed. His family situation left something to be desired, but all in all his life was better than most of the other apostles’ were. He left that life behind when Jesus asked him to, because his feelings for Jesus were stronger than those for anybody else in his life.

Believing in love at first sight would mean giving Jesus a chance with his argument. And Judas does not want to give him a chance in that, because he knows, that deep down this is all a lie. He knows that for some reason Jesus believes he is deeply in love with Judas, even though Judas knows he is thoroughly unlovable.

He has nothing at all going for him, and even the thought of somebody loving him sends him into a state of panic, because he knows how it will end. He knows there will be nothing but pain, a sharp, cutting pain, silver like lightning, cold like metal, cutting and ripping away at him until he is nothing more than a pile of shreds; an unrecognisable caricature of himself, crippled by pain.

He has gone through it before.

Judas is sure, that if it were Jesus, he would not survive it, because his feelings were never quite as strong for anybody else. And Jesus has a way of making Judas desperate to the point where he is sure he will give his life for Jesus should that be needed.

It is not easy, being near Jesus and not having all of him, but Judas knows it is for the best. Only he does not really know. he hopes it is, because otherwise, he would give in completely and be with Jesus.

He knows that Jesus wants him.

He knows that Jesus is aware of Judas’ feelings. Because otherwise, Jesus would not continuously tell Judas of his love. His supposed love.

“How can you love me?” Judas asks and it takes Jesus by surprise.

“I can’t explain it,” Jesus says. “I just do. Maybe because you need it that much.” Judas is not sure that he does, but Jesus seems quite confident in the statement.

Holding back is more difficult if Jesus is close to him. Has an arm around him, or a hand on his thigh, a smile on his lips and an unmistakable glint of humour, of affection in his eyes.

Leaning over and kissing Jesus flat out, was nearly impossible sometimes. Judas knew, that with every hug, with every barely platonic gesture, he came closer to giving up and letting Jesus take what he wanted. What they both wanted.

Because Judas wanted. He wanted so badly it hurt, but he knew this pain was less than what he would feel if Jesus left him. When. The correct word was ‘when’. Because Jesus leaving him was only a matter of time.

After all, what did a bright soul, a beautiful spirit like Jesus want with somebody like Judas?

As it turned out, Jesus wants everything.

Jesus wanted to hold Judas, wanted to make him feel like he belonged; he wanted to tell him how much he loved him and he wanted to kiss him.

Judas should have known that what Jesus wants, he gets.

Judas holds on to Jesus as if his life depends on it, because he feels like it does. Once he had a taste of Jesus, he knows he can never go without him anymore. Once he has felt the skin of Jesus’ chest beneath his fingertips, he longs for more. Skin on skin, breaths mingling, heat building around them, while they move as if they are one.

Afterwards, Jesus still does not leave.

“I love you,” he keeps on insisting and now Judas can return it.

“I love you too,” he says, his voice weak, as if saying this simple sentence is using up all his strength.

Yes, now Judas can tell Jesus this truth, but he still does not believe Jesus’ claims at all. It is excruciating, hearing everything he says and knowing, that one way or another, everything will end in pain.

He smiles sadly, when Jesus looks at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, because he cares. It would be easier if he did not care.

Judas only shakes his head.

“Nothing.” He is only telling the truth. Nothing is wrong. And that is the most unsettling thing of all.

He does not trust perfect things, because perfection is misleading, hiding all the imperfections behind a wall. A fragile wall, that when it breaks, lets loose the most horrible of truths.

And of course Jesus can see right through him. He pulls Judas close and whispers to him, sweet words of reassurance, gentle confessions of love.

And over time, Judas feels himself melting in the warmth of Jesus’ embrace. He loses his scepticism and learns to love more openly. He feels himself becoming a better person.

When Jesus has a difficult time, Judas knows how to handle it, because Jesus treated him accordingly when Judas was down.

They comfort and help each other, they have a mutual system of unwavering support and they thrive in it.

Jesus somehow instinctively knows when Judas starts to believe him; he throws himself into Judas’ arms and Judas just holds him and tells him about his love, tells him of how he came to love Jesus. About a love at first sight.

“I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you,” Judas says and it is sincere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blease feed me an prompt


	7. J/J/M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only skimmed through it, so this probably has mistakes ..

“When was the last time you got some proper sleep?” Mary asked.

Judas shrugged. It was not that he did not care; no, sleep really did sound inviting, but Judas genuinely did not know when he had last slept a whole night.

Even when he tried, he was always tossing and turning, his thoughts wandering wildly, and Judas could not seem to shut them off.

He was so worried. For Jesus, for their cause, for their relationship. He was worried about Mary and he was feeling bad about this at the same time, because Mary was genuinely nice.

But Judas was jealous every time she came close to Jesus. His possessive side almost got the better of him, but after some time, he realised that it was not solely jealousy of Mary.

She was here with him now, and Judas begrudgingly admitted that she was as good a person as Jesus always claimed that she was. She cared, she wanted to help, and Judas was too weak, to tired and exhausted to resist.

Her hands on his arms were soothing, the contact he had been longing for, so he let himself lean back against her.

“I don’t know. It’s been too long. I worry about him so much,” Judas breathed out. Mary closed her arms around him and hugged him to her chest.

“I know. And I do too, but you have to take care of yourself as well.”

Her voice was steady and Judas knew she meant every word of it.

“I don’t know how. If he’s not alright, I can’t function,” he admitted. “I can barely live when he’s not with me.”

“You really love him, don’t you?” Mary said. It was not a question. It was a statement, nothing but the truth. Mary knew Judas’ weakness, she knew his struggles and his true emotions. She probably knew him better than he did, in his hazy state of mind, that rarely seemed to change anymore.

Judas closed his eyes and leaned his head against Mary’s. She continued to hold him and just like that he felt at peace for the first time in weeks.

Because that was it. He was not just jealous of Mary when she was talking to Jesus, being near him, touching, laughing, bonding. He was also jealous of Jesus.

Judas had felt the pull towards Mary from the second she entered their lives, but at first he had pushed it away, concentrated all his attraction and affection on Jesus.

He could not do that anymore now. His self-control was low and Mary was there, so close, so warm and comforting.

When she pressed a kiss against his cheek, his eyes snapped open and he turned his head, surprised.

“Don’t.” Resisting was difficult, but Judas would do nothing to jeopardise his relationship with Jesus. Not even one kiss.

“It’s okay, darling,” Mary mumbled and pressed another kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“I can’t I’m... Jesus...” He did not know how to articulate his thoughts, but Mary understood.

“He’s okay with this,” she said.

“You asked him?” Judas uttered, incredulously.

“We... talked about this.”

“Wait.” A terrible thought crossed Judas’ mind. What if Jesus did not want him anymore and had given Mary a green lights because of that?

“No, he’s not breaking up with you. He loves you more than you know, Judas,” Mary said, smiling.

Judas did not even dare ask how she knew what he was thinking.

“But what... why then?”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to do this. Just say so. But... well, I’m in love with Jesus.”

Jealously flared up in Judas, he tensed, but Mary’s arms tightened around him as she shushed him.

“Please, hear me out. I know you love him and I’m also aware that I could never compete with that. I’m hoping I won’t have to. Cause I’m also falling in love with you.”

Judas froze; he was pretty sure he forgot how to breathe for just a bit too long.

“You... what?” he panted out.

“Yeah. I mean. I’ve noticed how you look at me and I thought it could be mutual, but if not, I’ll back off.”

Judas blinked, trying to understand what she was implying.

“No, I’m... you’re right, I have... I think I have feelings for you. But - how are you so comfortable talking about all... *this*?” It was crazy. This was all crazy.

“Not everybody is as caught up in their own messy feelings as you are, babe,” Mary said. The pet name did something to Judas, that he did not quite know how to describe. He felt warm. Perhaps even loved.

“So you’re saying... This? Us three, all together. Like that?”

Mary nodded.

“If you’re okay with that,” she agreed.

“Yeah,” Judas breathed and leaned in to kiss her. It was gentle, slow, and when they broke apart, they were both smiling.

“Yeah I’m okay with it,” Judas said.

“I’m glad,” Mary replied. “But you have to sleep now. I don’t know how you still function, honestly.”

Judas did not want to get up; he did not want to move, wanted to stay in her arms forever. He was comfortable here; he could fall asleep on the spot.

“Come to bed with me,” he said.

“Okay.”

Judas fell asleep in Mary’s arms and for once, his mind was quiet. The one time he woke up that night was, when Jesus came to bed. Enveloped in warmth from all sides, a feeling of love and tenderness in the air, he fell back asleep.

When Judas woke up, his limbs were tangled up with two other people’s. He was facing Jesus, who was still asleep, a hand on Judas’ hip, the other nestled under his head. On Judas other side was Mary, her arms around Judas, her body pressed against him. It was the perfect picture of domestic bliss, a situation he had always imagined but never dared to really hope for.

Now that it was real, Judas found he did not wish for anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo . I still have not failed. Blease comment. I live for comments.


	8. Chapter 8

“I don’t want to be near you,” I say. And there is a reason, because no matter how exciting you are, no matter how appealing and enticing you are, I need to keep my distance.

I really do not want to be near you. It drives me crazy, because all I want to do is hold you and keep you close to me when I know that I cannot. Or should not. I do not trust myself to have the self-control it would take to not scare you off. Because you are the light and all I feel is darkness. I do not want to corrupt you. I could never forgive myself.

“Come here, darling,” you say and I do not hesitate. I fall into your arms and I feel safe there, protected, but I also feel guilty. I did not resist, I did not hold back when you asked. I only obeyed and followed you. Because that i what I do, and as long as you do not send me away, I will always follow you.

* * *

 

“I just want to be yours,” I breathe out between kisses. I know that I love you, but I cannot say it just yet, I do not want to chain myself to you, but it is not because I do not trust you; it is because I am afraid of letting go. The tighter I bind myself to you, the more I will suffer.

You pull back, flustered; my fingers in your hair and your name on my tongue.

“You are,” you say and I do not doubt it for a second.

“You will always be. And I’m yours, exactly the same.”

Your next kiss is gentle, like a seal on the words you just spoke. And I melt with it, I let myself go and I know I cannot hold myself back, because you said you are mine, you told me and that is all I need to know.

‘I love you,’ echoes through my mind with every touch and with every look that falls upon me. I feel like your own emotions are coursing through me when we kiss and I know I am not alone, and yet that sentence is scary, because it is not only a confession; it is a promise and I am not sure if I am ready to make it.

* * *

 

“I love you,” I finally say and a weight is lifted off me, like a curtain that reveals the real me. The real me is hopelessly in love with you, barely defined by more than that. My utterance has no context, no preamble; it came out of the blue, because it felt right to say. It felt right to confess. Your eyes are wide, you seem surprised and your fingertips are shaking against my skin.

“I was not sure,” you whisper and I shake my head.

“How?” I ask, because you had to know of my infatuation, my love.

“Am I really worth your love?” you ask and I pull you close, I hold you, while I tell you that you are. While I tell you that you are the light of my life, the stars in my moonless night, the reason for my happiness. You smile and I realise that this is who you want to be to me and for some reason that makes me feel like I am using you. I am giving you nothing in return, but kisses and all too hesitant touches.

* * *

 

“I can’t take this anymore.” I am crying; I had not wanted to do it like this. It was not supposed to end like this, but your love is burning too bright, fuelled by my need for it. At the same time, it hurts me, because I am doubting more and more, the reality of this situation, the sincerity of your feelings. At times I feel as though you see me as just another broken man to fix.

And even if that is not the case I feel miserable, because I take and take and fail to give. It is a terrible emotion, that sucking, draining feeling in the pit of my stomach. So I confront you. I come to you and say those words; I mean them.

The look in your eyes breaks my heart, but I know I cannot continue like we have.

I turn and leave.

For days I am alone; I think about you, trying to grasp the extent to which our lives have become entwined. It is overwhelming, the need to be near you even though I do not want to be, is tearing me apart and making me suffer, but I do not want to harm you, I cannot go back and yet with every second that passes, my desire to run back grows.

* * *

 

“I need you.” It is you who breaks first, you who come running to me, you who close your arms around me, you who press your face against my neck, sobbing against my skin. It is you who beg for forgiveness, even though you have done nothing wrong. It is _you_ , who asks _me_ to take you back.

It is absurd, because the moment you came to me, I had decided to do the same, and so, the instant we touch, words leave our lips as if our minds are connected, as if we are merely one person in two bodies.

“I need you,” we both utter, our voices laced with heavy emotion, our eyes meeting in understanding of one another. We cannot be apart, as much as we might desire to be. I realise in that moment, that I can change, I can be what you need and deserve as well, because if you choose me over anybody else, that is enough of a reason for me to please you in any way I can, to comfort you and to protect you from whatever might harm you, including this side of myself that made me hurt you before. I can love you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This is the end of this fic. I wanted it to have 14 chapters, one for every day until my one year anniversary of first watching Swedish JCS. I did write one every day, but I posted 6 of those chapters separately. This is the last one, which I started last Saturday (6 days ago lol) but anyway, I'm done now and no joke, this fic has helped me so much; a few of the earlier chapters are pretty heavy and depressing. That was me getting over somebody. So. Thank you for reading and sticking with me through it!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments keep me alive :))


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